


Show Me The Stars

by DotColorful



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, But not that much, Father-Son Relationship, Heart-to-Heart, Slavery, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 00:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DotColorful/pseuds/DotColorful
Summary: Luke, captured and kept on Vader’s ship, has to come to terms with his father’s plans for him.A birthday gift for Marajadey
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	Show Me The Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marajadey (sorayume)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorayume/gifts).



> Happy birthday Jadey!!! This one is for you! You’re amazing and I wish you all the best. 
> 
> ~~sorry this is not din luke but I can’t write any other characters than Luke and Vader lol~~
> 
> I hope you like it!

The transplasteel viewport at the side of the Executor’s bridge was Luke’s favorite spot on the ship. Far to the right of the central hub, the viewport was often unoccupied by Imperial officers who would gather near the center of the structure. The bridge was always full of commotion, the space filled with the sounds of barked orders, the hum of navi computers, and the hurried steps of technicians and troopers. Luke was never one to like large gatherings, but the atmosphere on the Executor’s bridge was not that of a typical crowd. Filled with rush and commotion, nobody ever paid attention to the frail figure of a former Jedi quietly watching the stars on the side. 

Perhaps this was the reason why Luke spent so much time on the bridge. He didn’t want to be noticed -  _ he could not even remember the last time he’d spoken to anyone _ \- but being in the same room with all those other people made him feel less...  _ alone _ . 

And Luke Skywalker was _ very lonely.  _

It must have been a few months since he’d been brought here - though he wasn’t sure - Vader would not tell him how much time had passed. It couldn’t have been more than a year, though - Luke knew that much. Ever since he’d been brought to his father’s flagship, the crew had only managed to make the trip to  _ Er’kit _ \- and, if Luke remembered well from his classes on Tatooine, a journey like that could last no longer than six months. 

Though that no longer mattered - to Luke, time had lost all meaning anyway. 

Still traumatized after Bespin, he’d expected his father to start training him as soon as he’d been captured. Vader had made it very clear that he wanted Luke to join him in the Dark Side of the Force; he was sure the Sith would still try to achieve it once his son was in his clutches. 

But nothing like that had happened. Luke could still remember when he’d been brought to Vader and shoved on his knees, the troopers’ blasters digging into his back. He’d been bleeding - when he’d been captured, he did not go down without a fight. His gaze had stubbornly followed the droplets of the scarlet liquid slowly sliding down on the floor; he did not look at Vader even as the Sith had stepped right in front of him and ordered him to look up. 

_ “Your capture was inevitable, Skywalker. I told you there was no escape.” _

_ “No matter what the odds were, I would always take the chance,” he replies through gritted teeth, refusing to meet his father’s gaze. _

_ “Then, my son, you are a fool. But worry not,” his father adds, his voice so dark it sends shivers down Luke’s spine, “that will soon change.” _

What happened next was one of the worst moments of Luke’s life. 

But he did not want to go into that. Not today.

Today, the galaxy was already filled with sorrow. Luke didn’t know why; his connection to the Force had significantly worsened ever since he had been brought here. Fatigued, distressed,  _ resigned a _ s he was, he could now barely manage the most simple tasks. 

No, the sorrow did not come from the Force. It was… just life, itself. Everything was so  _ slow _ , so sad. Even the galaxy behind the viewport was empty, devoid of any stars. There was nothing to look at - it was simply a dark void. But what else was there to do? Watching the galaxy was the only thing he had left - and he had a feeling that he would soon lose the opportunity to even do that. 

But what did it matter? His father had already taken everything from him anyway.

_ “No,” he says, breathless, turning his head sharply with an alarmed cry. “Wait, no… father--” _

_ But Vader’s not there - only him and the medics are. They’re holding him down - he can’t move. The Force feels thick and doesn’t respond to his call. His heart races as the medics push him down into a chair, as an IV line is secured into the crook of his elbow and an unknown liquid starts trickling down the transparent tube.  _

_ “Wait,” he repeats, panicked. What are they doing, what is this thing flowing into his arm? He’s feeling tired; sleep threatens to overcome his consciousness, but he’s scared, he can’t sleep. He just wants it to stop-- _

_ “Please, wait,” he pleads, once again, but they don’t listen. He’s hyperventilating now, and he would probably be more concerned if he had the energy to even realize that. But he doesn’t, because he’s panicked, and the voices around him grow louder and fainter at the same time-- _

_ He wakes up some time later. The medics are nowhere to be found. He’s lying in a medical bay, but doesn’t know why. He can’t feel any pain.  _

_ And then he becomes aware of that cursed respirator breathing right next to him; surprisingly, he doesn’t flinch.  _

_ His father’s darkness is close; the strong grip twists around his arm.  _

_ “You will never escape.” _

_ And Luke can’t even cry. _

His father had taken his freedom that day. Luke couldn’t understand it at first - still disoriented, he had expected his father to start training him, or to shove him into a prison cell and interrogate him to madness, to punish him for all his resistance to the Empire’s regime. 

Only a few days later, when he finally understood that he’d been surgically fitted with a transmitter chip, he finally understood the plans his father had for him.

He was not a prisoner or apprentice.

He was a  _ slave _ . 

Of course, Vader hadn’t said so explicitly - Luke had a feeling his father was rather reluctant to say that word - but he knew what being injected with the chip meant. All slaves on Tatooine had one - it prevented them from escaping, ensuring that any slave who wanted to get away would be blown to pieces as soon as they were too far away.

It didn’t mean Luke hadn’t tried to escape - Force knows he had done everything to get away. But how could he ever break out of the prison his father had confined him to for the rest of his life?  _ He couldn’t.  _ With one simple surgery, his father had ensured that Luke would never leave him again. There wasn’t anything he could do - anything other than die, and no matter what happened, Luke did not want to throw away his life. 

He wanted… he wanted to see Leia’s gentle smile once again. 

Wanted to feel Han’s reassuring hand on his back, saying that  _ it will be alright, kid. It will be alright.  _

So, he’d stayed on the ship, more and more withdrawn with every day. When he wasn’t asleep, he would spend his time looking at the stars; when he was tired, he would meditate for hours on end.

But it did not matter anymore, because he, Luke Skywalker, had no freedom left. 

_ In every way that mattered, he was dead.  _

The darkness behind the transplasteel window suddenly changed; the flash of blue and purple lights told Luke they have entered the hyperspace. It was a nice view, for a change - they’d been floating in the dark void of the space for too long now. Luke still longed to see the stars. 

He doubted he would ever fly again.

What he wanted no longer mattered. His father had made that clear.

_ “You have not been eating,” his father says, not looking at him. They are alone in the room; Vader’s figure, impassive as ever, is standing in front of the viewport. His back is turned to Luke who, subconsciously trying to make himself as invisible as possible, is standing quietly a few meters behind.  _

_ “I wasn’t hungry,” he murmurs, his eyes shifting to the ground. He lost his appetite soon after being brought to the ship; he felt too numb to think about taking care of such things. _

_ “That is of no concern to me,” Vader answers. His voice is as devoid of any emotion as ever; Luke shivers.“Your usefulness depends on your health.” _

_ Luke squeezes his eyes shut at that. He hates hearing that, though he knows he should be used to it at this point. He understands why his father is keeping him on his ship, why he is so desperate to prevent him from getting away.  _

Vader, the most powerful man in the galaxy, was not a strong man. His health was not in a good state, and Luke knew it would only get worse. 

_ This _ was why he did everything to keep Luke by his side. His son did not matter to him - but it was different with his son’s  _ blood _ .

He could still remember the first time he’d learned of his purpose on this ship, though he did everything he could to forget about that day. He’d been meditating in his quarters - he was still surprised that his father allowed him the luxury of privacy - when the medics had come. 

It had been the first visit of many. 

_ “No!” He yells, squirming out of the medics’ grip. “Let me go!” _

_ But his movements are sluggish, and vaguely he realizes he must have been drugged. His limbs move with a slight delay; as a wave of tiredness hits him, he realizes he’s not even sure if he’s moving at all. _

_ But then it’s all bright, and he has to squint his eyes. He’s pushed into a chair, his wrists bound to the sides, and renewed panic enters his mind. The way he can’t move, the way the medics’ faces are all he can see… it’s the time he’d been injected with the transmitter chip all over again.  _

_ He struggles again; immediately, a hand slaps his face. “Stay still!”  _

_ And Luke does, but not on free will. His body is paralyzed now, either with drugs or with fear - he’s not really sure. Strong arms grab him, maneuver his limbs however they like. Luke lets them do it, but not without a fight; his gaze is filled with defiance as they slowly embed a needle in the crook of his arm.  _

_ It takes a while to fill the first bag - Luke is too dehydrated to let the blood flow freely. Now he knows why Vader had been so insistent on making sure his son was fed properly; the very thought of that makes him sick.  _

_ The second bag takes even longer; and somewhere through, Vader enters the room.  _

_ “His status?” He asks, his voice deeper than always; Luke doesn’t know why. _

_ “Everything is going according to plan, my Lord,” the medic replies. Luke flinches as they fumble with the needle to replace the bag.  _

_ “Very well,” his father replies. “Inform me when it’s ready.”  _

It was only a few weeks later when Luke learned what  _ ‘it’ _ referred to. 

Vader was using transfusions of Luke’s blood to improve his own health. Luke had suspected this would happen - though he had to admit he had denied that thought - but seeing his father’s presence feel stronger and stronger in the Force each day…

...was terrible, because for some reason,  _ Luke did not mind.  _

Of course he did not like it - being secured to that medical chair and having his blood drawn always made him panic, though he was better at hiding it now. But no matter how much distress it caused him, no matter how much he wanted to break free… it felt good to see the improvements in his father’s health.

And Luke knew it was probably the orphan in him speaking, but there was nothing he could do to stop that. Leia had always told him he was too good to everyone; guess this was the case now. 

The purples and blues of the hyperspace have already disappeared. They were again in deep space now; he hadn’t noticed when they had dropped out of light speed. It was suddenly quiet, too - almost as if everyone had left the bridge. 

_ Huh? _

Cautiously, Luke turned around, uneasiness already filling his stomach. The sight he was met with widened his eyes -  _ indeed, there was nobody near him.  _ The whole bridge, the heart of the Executor’s command… was empty. 

And then the sound of the respirator appeared. 

“Luke,” a raspy voice said. He didn’t turn around; he could  _ feel  _ Vader standing behind him. 

“Father,” he whispered back. 

“Son.”

This wasn’t any different from how all their other conversations went. They have rarely ever spoken; Luke was a utility here, not a person. The only time his father spared his words on him was when he needed something or when Luke was not acting according to his expectations. Usually, the conversation, _ if it could even be called as such _ , would be one-sided - it was Vader who would ask all the questions. 

Luke’s job was just to obediently respond and  _ never talk back. _

But this time felt different. This time he  _ wanted  _ to speak. 

“What’s happening?” He asked, quietly, almost wincing at the sound of his voice. It must have been the first question he’d asked ever since he’d been captured, he realized. He expected his father would not take it lightly. 

To his surprise, his father was calm. “I have asked all crewmembers to leave the bridge.”

_ So I have noticed,  _ Luke thought dryly, fighting the urge to say it out loud. He swallowed, working moisture into his lips; he hadn’t been really complying with the  _ ‘keep him hydrated’  _ order.

“Why?” He whispered. He wished he could project his genuine curiosity, _ the way he was lost _ , into the Force. Yet his connection with it was weak as always; there was no point in trying. 

“I wished to talk to you.”

The way Vader said it so matter-of-factly, as if it was something blatantly obvious, made Luke flinch in surprise.  _ Talk to him?  _ They didn’t  _ talk.  _ Vader never wasted time on his son.

“Why?” He whispered again, cursing the way hope sneaked into his voice, the way Vader could surely hear his desire to speak to his father. 

But Vader didn’t respond, and Luke couldn’t say he was surprised. This was how it always went - a mockery of a conversation in which only his father had a say. The Sith never cared about what his son said or wanted to hear. Luke’s desperate attempts at creating any connection between him and his father always fell dead on Vader’s ears. 

And now it was happening again; Luke’s body tensed as a sudden wave of anger passed through him. “If you wanted to speak to me, then speak!” 

Had he said that anytime else, Vader would surely strangle him. Nobody, even his own son dared to speak to the Dark Lord of the Sith that way. And yet, here Luke was, spitting the words out as if they were poison, rage coloring his eyes. 

“Go on, tell me what’s happening!” He repeated, taking a step closer to the Sith. How long were they going to play this game? How long until Vader would decide that he no longer had a need for his son, that there was no point keeping him here? Luke knew he would never be allowed to return to his friends - even if he was, the transmitter chip would never enable him to leave. So what would happen? Would he die? Would his father simply dispose of him, kill him like the rest of his crew when they displeased him?

“Why aren’t you speaking?!” He yelled again. All his apathy, all the resignation that had kept him put during the last few months exploded, filling him with uncontrolled rage. “Why do you come here,  _ Father _ ? Why do you treat me like I don’t  _ kriffing  _ exist?!” 

And still, his father stayed silent, and Luke was so angry he could barely breathe. 

“What is it this time?!” He cried, looking up sharply; he could feel first tears slowly making their way down his cheeks. “Just tell me what you want with me!” 

Slowly, Vader’s mask tilted down to look at him. For a moment, their gazes locked - the steady, impenetrable stare of Vader’s lenses and the furious look of suffering in Luke’s eyes. 

And then, a gloved hand moved to his cheek; Luke felt both the urge to press it to his cheek and slap it away. 

“I wanted to tell you that it’s over,” his father said quietly. “I was wrong in keeping you here. You no longer have to stay.”

Vader’s figure suddenly became blurred; so did the rest of his surroundings. Was it the tears? He couldn’t really tell… It felt hot, all of a sudden, and there was pressure beginning to form behind his eyes. Uneasily, he looked to his left, his disoriented gaze half-expecting to see the purple flashes of the hyperspace again. 

Then, after what must have been only a few seconds but had felt much longer, he whispered:

“Wh-... _ what?” _

“I’ve decided to let you go,” his father repeated. “I want you to leave this ship _ now.”  _

“B-but why?” Luke asked, stuttering. Why now, why was it happening now--

“I can’t keep you here,” the baritone voice said again. Not like that, not like a  _ slave.”  _

Luke took a step back in surprise, but not because it was the first time his father had called him that. It was the rage, the absolute disgust in Vader’s voice that made him flinch; he had  _ never  _ had his father speak of something with such repulsion. 

_ Not like that, not like a slave.  _

“You stand here every day,” Vader continued, snapping his son’s attention back to him. “I see the way you gaze at the stars, young one. You were meant for greatness; it is a crime to deny you that.” 

**_I’m a pilot, you know,_** a voice suddenly echoed in his head. It was a voice he’d never heard, and yet somehow he knew it so well. 

**_Someday, I’m gonna get out of this place._ **

_ A flash of a young woman, her face decorated with a kind smile.  _

**_You’re a slave?_ **

“So.., you want me to go?” Luke asked, already knowing the answer to that question.  _ Maybe he just wanted to hear it again.  _

“Yes,” Vader repeated. “You’re your own person. I won’t make you stay.” 

_ Again, that familiar voice: _

**I am a person and my name is Anakin!**

_ Anakin. _

_ It all made sense.  _

“You…” he whispered, voice trembling with shock and uncertainty. “You were a slave?”

A flash of anger flooded their bond. Luke took a step back, his hand flying to his face in an attempt of protection. It was an instinct, an involuntary response learned during his first week on this ship. 

_ “Aghh!” He grunts as Vader’s fist collides with his cheek; his body hits the floor before he can catch himself. Trembling, he looks up. _

_ “Father, please…” _

_ “You disobeyed me.” _

_ “No,” he whispers, trying to drag his body backward, to put some distance between him and the Sith. “No, I--”  _

He snapped back, shutting the memory out of his mind. Slowly, he peeked from behind his arm; Vader was still standing there, not doing anything. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled, embarrassed, but his father didn’t seem to hear him. 

“ _ I was, _ ” he seethed instead, confirming what his son thought. The acknowledgment of his past came with anger, but for once, it was not directed at Luke.

“This is why I want you to  _ leave _ ,” his father continued. “I will not have my son lose his freedom.”

But his freedom was already lost, wasn’t it? Gone when he’d been injected with the--

“The chip,” Luke said, shaking his head. “If I left, I would be…”  _ blown to pieces,  _ he thought but didn’t say it out loud. 

“It will be removed.”

“What?” he asked, surprisingly angry instead of relieved. “You said-- you said it could never be removed… You said I could never leave…” 

The words died on his lips as he caught sight of the galaxy behind the transplasteel window. For the first time in days, there were stars visible there, twinkling delicately. Luke had always loved the stars - he would spend hours looking at the sky on Tatooine, watching them with morbid fascination as he imagined what life beyond that dustball of a planet looked like.  _ Skywalker blood _ , his uncle used to say; it took Luke some time to understand Owen had been saying that with disgust. He’d always been proud of his heritage, of what being a Skywalker meant. 

But what did it mean, really?

_ You were meant for greatness _ , his father had said. 

_ Skywalker is a name you can wear with pride _ , Beru had told him once. 

_ Skywalkers were always meant for the sky _ . 

“Come with me,” he whispered, looking up at his father. His eyes burned with unbidden tears; he didn’t care. 

Vader shifted uneasily, then froze. “I can’t.”

That same anger he’d felt before washed over Luke in an instant. “Of course you can! What is stopping you? We could be  _ free _ ! You could join the Alliance, I could keep you safe! You could be healed, my blood--”

“No,” Vader said. “No drop of your blood will ever be sacrificed for me ever again.” 

_ But I want you with me,  _ Luke wanted to protest. His hands were almost itching to reach for his father’s helmet, to physically drag him to a ship, to take off and leave everything behind. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this - his father had given him nothing but pain - but he had to. 

He needed to help his father be free. It was his duty, his  _ desire, _ it was in his blood. 

_ Skywalker blood.  _

“Father,” he whispered, his eyes drifting to the viewport on their side. The stars were still flashing behind it, as brilliant as ever. He’d spent so much time watching them over the last few months…

“I want you to come with me. I want you to show me the stars.” 

  
  



End file.
